


Delayed

by Colonel_Moriarty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colonel_Moriarty/pseuds/Colonel_Moriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I wrote another MorMor ficlet.</p>
<p>Seb wants to know what Jim would do if he died.</p>
<p>Jim might have to find an answer sooner than he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delayed

„Hey boss, what would you do, if I died tomorrow? “

The voice made Jim stir, although he had not really fallen asleep yet. He rolled around to the tall blonde man behind him, trying to make out the vague outlines of his face in the dim lit room, while trying to understand what might have triggered this particular question in his sniper.

“Well, first of all I’d hope you’d send me a phone call before you do so I can start looking for a replacement,” Jim replied finally, knowing his words were unnecessary cruel but he didn’t care. Sebastian tended to have the weirdest ideas at night sometimes, “And don’t expect me to come to your funeral. I’m a busy man.”

Moran’s reply was a quiet chuckle as he pressed closer against his employer, nestling his chin on his shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll keep it in mind, boss.” he murmured, drifting back into a dreamless sleep.

*

Jim Moriarty hated being late. And he hated it when others weren’t punctual, as well. Time was too precious to be wasted by waiting. So he was already quite agitated when Sebastian didn’t show up at the time he had given the sniper. Ten minutes were the maximum that Jim could forgive. But everything over twenty minutes would have to be punished severely.

A glance on the clock told him that Seb wasn’t just twenty minutes over the appointed time. No, he dared to be late for over three hours! This was an outrage!

Jim started to pace while his mind was working on appropriate punishments for the man that kept him waiting. The worst part was that Moran was also obviously ignoring his texts. That was simply unforgivable. The sniper had been a bit too cocky lately. Obviously he had forgotten his place in the hierarchy of things.

Half an hour later Jim got a call. Picking up he heard Dekker’s voice on the other end.

“Sir?” the man second in command after Moran said and there was an odd tone in his voice that irritated Jim greatly, “you should come to the base. We just found the Colonel.”

“Then send him over to me, fool. Why should I waste even more time by driving there?” Jim hissed, eyes narrowed.

“I don’t think that’s possible, sir. He…” Dekker hesitated before continuing quietly, “he is dead, sir.”

*

Jim looked over the body that was laying on the slab in the brightly lit room somewhere in the medical ward of the base. He slowly took in all the details: The thin trickle of blood that had dried on its way down over the man’s chin, the fresh bullet wounds on his chest, the fact that he was naked besides that white cloth draped over his lower body.

Reaching out, Jim brushed his finger over the line of blood, turning it into a tattoo like streak under his thumb before his hand wandered down to trace the holes that had not been in the man’s torso the night before. The body was already cold to the touch.

Dekker was standing next to him together with a doctor who had just finished explaining what had happened in medical terms and that the man had already been dead when they had found him.

“There was nothing anybody could have done.” he concluded before Dekker spoke up.

“Sir, what do you want us to do with the Colonel’s body?” he asked quietly, feeling rather uncomfortable in Jim’s presence as he could not read from his employers face was the man in the expensive suit was thinking.

The Colonel? An expression of disgust appeared on Jim’s face. This was not his Sebastian. Seb was warm and sometimes loud and obnoxious. This man was cold and stiff. Lifeless and dull. A corpse, nothing more.

“Do what you want.” he replied coldly, grabbing for the small bag that contained Moran’s few belongings. He wasn’t even sure why he took them along as he left the base, heading back to the flat. He had still so much work to do.

*

In the first night Jim found himself restless. He ended up entering Moran’s room, curling up on the snipers bed, the other man’s scent still in the covers and the pillow.

Somehow he managed to fall asleep although it wasn’t a very restful sleep. He was freezing, body trembling as he buried himself further in the sheets.

[Stop hogging the covers, boss. Leave some for me!]

Jim jerked awake, sitting up, cold sweat covering his forehead. His hands felt around but there was nothing. Nobody but him. The bed was empty and still so very cold.

Jim couldn’t find any sleep for the rest of the night.

A few days later Dekker dropped by, finding the consulting criminal busy with putting everything that had belonged to the sniper into large cardboard boxes.

“Sir?” he approached his boss, handing him a photo, “we arranged everything. I hope you’ll find it to your liking.”

Jim blinked up at him through tired, glazed over eyes, then he looked at the photo. It showed a fresh grave somewhere at an unknown place, most likely a village far away. The grave was nestled underneath a large oak tree, a simple tombstone placed on top of it.

The simple inscription read: ‘S.M. - Soldier’

Jim only nodded shortly, handing the photo back. Then he gestured around at the boxes.

“Make sure to get rid of these things for me. I’ll be going out for a walk. I want them all gone when I return.”

*

When Jim returned the flat was empty. The silence had something stifling and he found it hard to breath. To think. To work.

He tried to ignore it though by listening to music on his IPod, humming along as he worked on a program on his laptop.

It was almost midnight when he finally stopped. Walking into the kitchen he found an empty mug with coffee stains. Seb had used it last and forgotten to clean it. Jim quickly threw it into the garbage. He made himself a sandwich, almost cutting his hand while slicing tomatoes. This was such a hassle. He shouldn’t have to do this himself!

Then suddenly he heard his phone ring, the ring tone making him jump. Hurrying over to the couch table, he picked it up, noticing he had received a text message.

Oddly enough the message dated a few days back.

When he saw who had sent it his eyes widened involuntarily.

[Sorry, boss. I might be delayed. Not sure when I’ll be home. –SM]

*

Roderich von Hutten usually didn’t need a second glance to know what type of criminal he was dealing with. There were the simple thugs of low intelligence, useful but expendable.

And there were the smart business types that usually thought they could play within the upper league when they were still merely toddlers.

And there were a selected few that actually had what was needed to be successful. Those were the ones Roderich von Hutten would make deals with.

But the man he was currently facing didn’t belong to any of the categories von Hutten had created for himself.

He was wearing a perfectly fitted expensive suit but he didn’t look like a dandy. And there was that perpetual smile on his face, combined with those large dark eyes which bore an expression that he couldn’t quite place.

This man was dangerous. And smart.

The only thing that didn’t quite fit his perfect ensemble was the pair of dog tags dangling from around his neck.

von Hutten decided to take the risk, reaching out his hand for a handshake. “I heard quite a lot about you, sir.” he said calmly, looking the smaller man over, “and yet I have to admit that I never really caught your name. Unfortunately it was never mentioned in the newspapers I read.”

The other man giggled, his voice bearing a faint irish accent, sounding light and airy.

“Jim.” he replied softly, shaking the older man’s hand, “Jim Moran. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. von Hutten. I’m sure we’ll work well together.”


End file.
